Happy Birthday Mr Moseby!
by Kassaremidybelljesslynn
Summary: It's Mr. Moseby's birthday and it seems everyone has forgotten...except one. Suite Life on Deck story.


Happy Birthday Mr. Moseby!

Summary: It's Mr. Moseby's birthday and it seems like no ones remembered it…again. But has everyone really forgot it? Inspired by a different episode.

* * *

KA-BOOM!

"Mr. Moseby!?" the cook yelled. Not again! It was those twins I know it is! They're the only ones who could cause such a ruckus!

"What's wrong Chef Gordo?" I asked. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss Chef Paolo. He was kind, a good cook, and occasionally kept those hooligans in check! Just remember, only twenty years until retirement!

"I can't stand it! If it's not the twins it's the upper-classmen and if it's not them it's the boat rocking too much, and I'm sick of it! If I don't get proper cooking conditions, I'm quitting!" he yelled. He always says it, never means it, and there are better chefs, but I don't feel like all the paperwork right now!

"Please don't leave us Chef Gordo! You are without a doubt the finest cook, and all the passengers would be ever-so-sad to see you go!" I squealed. He smiled and walked off somewhere. I ran into the kitchen.

"Scoundrels! I know you think that this boat is your playground but-"

"Moseby! Why are you yelling at me?" Ms. Tipton screamed. Oh no!

"Play on Ms. Tipton, play on!" I said, trying to cover it up. She smiled.

"Moseby, I think the big chefy likes me!" London whined.

"And why would you think that?" I asked politely. I really need to get somewhere…I wonder if my mother remembered my birthday…

"Because he told me I was delin quent! That sounds like delicate which is a compliment!"

"You mean delinquent?" I asked.

"Yes! That was the word!" she exclaimed. I sighed. Why couldn't I have worked at the St. Mark hotel? At least their heir is smart!

"I'll tell him you wish to thank him for the compliment."

"Oh, you don't need to tell him that! In their contract, I require each employee to compliment me at least ten times in a week!" London said. I shook my head. I'm guessing Muriel never filled that quota. I wonder what she's up to. Probably out conning more people out of their money…I wouldn't put it past her.

"What are doing?" I asked. I realized that the whole time I had been fanning out the kitchen. Stuff like this is normal now…

"Well I was baking a cake, but then the cook told me I had to have the oven on. I wondered why it wasn't hot…anyway, so I turned it to 500 degrees, and then the cake blew up!" London wailed.

"Oh dear," I whispered.

"No, oh London! Oh cakey!" she screamed. I sighed again. "Oh! Moseby, can you help me?!" she screamed suddenly. Oh no, no, no!

"Of course!" I said instead. Did I really just say that?

"Thank you Moseby!" she yelled, throwing her arms around me.

* * *

"So the egg whites are this runny part, not this hard, shelly part?" London asked again.

"Exactly." Three hours later, we had finally gotten past the cleaning out of the oven.

"And I can't just pour flour, I need to measure it?" she asked. I nodded. "Moseby, for such a boring and grumpy person you sure are smartistic!" she said. I sighed. Just when I thought we were having a breakthrough.

"Thank you London," I said, plastering a smile on my face.

"So now we mix it!" she yelled. She shoved her hands in the bowl and started mixing, spilling much of the flour out onto the table. I grabbed her hands, and showed her how to mix _gently _but she still didn't seem to get it. I let go and watched. I do hope the oven doesn't blow up again.

"Hey Moseby?" London asked.

"What's wrong London?" I asked.

"Duck!" she yelled, throwing some flour at me.

"LONDON!" I yelled. She laughed hard. I had to admit, it was funny.

"You look like a snowflake Moseby!" she laughed.

"Oh yeah? Well take that!" I yelled. I threw some flour back at her. She laughed harder. I threw more at her and it got into her mouth. She coughed but continued laughing.

"Enough. Chef Gordo will be very mad at us!" I said. She stopped. "You know, I remember when my sister and I used to have flour fights," I recalled.

"I know. That's why I started it," she said. I looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I remembered you telling me that, so I figured it would cheer you up because I wasn't sure how good the cookies would taste. But I made your favorite, white chocolate macadamia nut," she said. I smiled, tears welling up.

"How did you remember?"

"You know, people think I'm a ditz, but I'm actually pretty smart!" she said. She bumped my shoulder softly. "I also bought tickets to your favorite Broadway musical! You and I will go see it when we get to New York! I can't wait to see…" she pulled out a piece of paper, "jah-zee-boys! Wait, is it...jersey boys? Or is it the first one?" she said. I sighed again.

"We'll work on the pronunciation later."

"Okay! Happy Birthday Mr. Moseby!"

"Thank you London. You have no idea how happy I am," I told her. This time, I wasn't saying it because of that compliment quota. I meant it.

"Moseby?"

"Yes London?"

"You better not where one of your tacky suits to the musical, like the one you're wearing! I'll pick it out!" she said.

"You're so very kind London," I said. This time, it was to fill the quota.

"I know!"

Only London could get away with something like that. But you know what? At the end of the day, it's worth it.

* * *

My first Suite Life story. Sorry if it seemed a bit rushed, I was writing this during computer class when my teacher wasn't looking. So tell me if it was any good.


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